Lord Lansbury's Christmas Wedding

by Helen Dickson

  He went on to talk further about her father’s legacy and that she would need advice on investing her money wisely. She asked brief questions now and then, and when she finally left her head was spinning with the enormity of her wealth.

  * * *

  Jane and her aunt made scant conversation on the journey back to Kensington. They were both preoccupied in the privacy of their own thoughts. Their visit to Mr Shadwell had been brief but eventful. For Caroline Standish it had been a day of sudden concern for her niece. For Jane it had been an experience that would, she knew, alter the whole pattern of her life.

  ‘You always knew your father had accumulated wealth.’

  ‘I did, but I am quite staggered by the amount.’

  ‘Have you any idea what you will do now?’

  ‘Nothing for the present. I shall have to give the matter some thought and take advice from those who know about such things.’ She smiled. ‘I shall begin by making a generous donation to your charities, Aunt Caroline. I’m sure you will be able to put it to good use.’

  ‘I would be most grateful, Jane. There is a home for unmarried mothers...’

  * * *

  After saying goodnight to her aunt, Jane rested in the gathering darkness, listening to the night sounds beyond the open window. Too restless to sleep, she lay on her bed beneath the covers, willing her body to relax. She was now faced with an enormous dilemma and decisions about her future had to be made. She would shortly be able to access her inheritance—a great deal of money, it would seem. Too much. She was forced to consider seriously what she must do next. It was a time for calm and reflection.

  One thing she was sure of was that she would have to abandon her care of Octavia. How could she remain working as a hired help when she was an heiress in her own right?

  Suddenly she had the stirrings of an idea. It was perhaps ridiculous, and if she had any sense at all she would discard it without a second’s thought, but all her feelings were heightened. The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Lord Lansbury and his family needed help. She would like to see Lord Lansbury given a helping hand in his resolute determination to restore his family wealth.

  But would Lord Lansbury accept her offer? He was a proud man and would probably show her the door. She had seen how reluctant he had been to marry Miss Spelling for her money, why would he accept hers? All she knew was that she would like to try. Besides, unlike Miss Spelling, her offer would be unconditional. What use was all that money to her when it could do so much for Chalfont?

  Aunt Caroline was apprehensive and wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing when she told her what she had decided. ‘Are you sure you know what you are doing, Jane? Let good sense and not sentiment rule your emotions.’

  ‘I have done nothing else but think about it all night. Trust me,’ Jane said, smiling confidently. ‘Lord Lansbury’s situation can only be improved by my offer.’

  Chapter Six

  Jane took great care with her appearance for her visit to Lansbury House. Even though she knew she would not attract stares of admiration and envy, she sensed in herself a new thing, an extra quality that set her above the realms of mere physical attractiveness. Today she felt different, somehow more alive than she had ever been before. A peculiar inner excitement touched her cheeks with a flush of delicate pink, which added a special sparkle to her eyes and caused the promise of a smile to hover at the corners of her mouth.

  Her eyes were shining with expectation when she arrived at Lansbury House in the heart of Mayfair. She was admitted by a footman and told to wait a moment while he informed Lord Lansbury that she wished to see him. She looked around, her brilliant smile encompassing the magnificent chequerboard-tiled hall floor with its curving marble staircase and crystal chandelier suspended from the ornately plastered ceiling. She almost laughed out loud. She felt like a good fairy in a children’s fairy tale, thrilled to the core to be about to bestow a gift on an unsuspecting being who was waiting for a miracle.

  She was admitted to find Lord Lansbury seated behind a leather-topped desk. Giving it a quick glance, she noted every pen and every sheet of paper was in symmetrical order—and what she thought to be his desk diary, scrupulously maintained in his neat handwriting, a daily record of meetings and commitments. Shoving back his chair, he got up and walked round the desk.

  Overwhelmed and ridiculously nervous, Jane stared at him. He was looking every inch the handsome, elegant earl today, with his blue coat and darker blue trousers, gold-striped waistcoat and his immaculate white linen. Dark hair brushed back, his handsome features were thoughtful as he contemplated her. He stood for a moment beside the table, and she looked at him with admiration before recollecting herself.

  ‘I—I— Forgive me,’ she said haltingly. ‘I wanted to see you, but I can see you are busy.’

  ‘Not at all. You took me by surprise, that is all.’

  The words, spoken softly, were as potent as a caress. Jane stared into his brooding dark face. Confusion pressed around her heart. This was the first time she had seen him since he had kissed her and she didn’t really know what to do or how to feel or even how to behave at this precise moment, which was unlike her since she had always said and done the first thing that came into her head. She had tossed and turned in her bed until the early hours on her first night back in London because of this man and his kiss, and then her dreams had been filled with such longings and yearnings as she had never thought to experience.

  ‘I—I hope I am not disturbing you,’ she said.

  * * *

  Since their parting Christopher had wondered how she was and if she had recovered from their shared kiss. She had been filled with such innocent, unselfish passion when he had drawn her into his arms. On reflection he remembered how shocked she had seemed afterwards. He smiled. Perhaps she had never been kissed before. That would explain it.

  But it didn’t explain his own reaction, he thought, as his gaze lingered on her lips, remembering what it had felt like to kiss them. Kissing Jane Mortimer was something he knew he was going to remember for a long time. The first touch of her lips, so seemingly chaste, and yet it had sent arousal pulsing through him in an instant.

  He’d known he was kissing a virgin and that his kiss had awakened carnality inside her for the very first time. Try as he might he could not banish her from his mind so easily. She had a way of getting under his skin and insinuating herself into his mind with an intelligent sharpness of mind and a clever wit that he admired, making her pleasant company and interesting to be with.

  ‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘I am genuinely happy to see you.’

  Noting her lovely eyes, richly lashed under excellently marked eyebrows, and the way in which she looked at him, she suddenly looked so young and defenceless to Christopher. He stared at her, at her lips, wanting to taste them once more, to feel their softness, but it was an impulse he would not succumb to.

  ‘What is the reason for your visit?’

  ‘I have something to say to you.’

  ‘Given this shameless conduct on your part—seeking me out at my home—I hope it is something of an important nature. Or,’ he said quietly, his dark brows rising a notch, a teasing glint igniting in his eyes, ‘naughty.’

  Jane tensed, forcing down a rush of panic, hoping she was not utterly wrong in her judgement of Lord Lansbury. ‘I—I said I wanted to talk,’ she reminded him.

  ‘And that’s all? How disappointing.’

  ‘That depends on what I have to say.’

  He chuckled. ‘Fair enough,’ he acknowledged. ‘Talk it is, then. Although I was right about you.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘You are not like any woman I’ve met before, which is why I am all the more intrigued by you.’

  She frowned. ‘Don’t be. I am not in the least intriguing.’<
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  ‘I beg to differ. You are the most fascinating young woman I’ve ever met. There is quite a fire under that cool, detached, practical exterior of yours.’

  Suddenly Jane felt uneasy. In order to gain time and marshal her thoughts, she said, ‘You—you appear to be busy. Perhaps I should come back some other time.’

  ‘I’m in London to decide whether or not to sell the house. It’s in a prime location. If I do decide to sell it, I have no doubt that once it goes on to the market I’ll soon have it off my hands.’

  His smile became ironic. After attending a meeting with his lawyer and auditors and turning them loose on Chalfont’s well-kept books and ledgers, for the first time in years it would seem that after all his hard work he was at last beginning to see some reward for his efforts. He might not have to sell the London house after all. But that was not Miss Mortimer’s concern.

  ‘So, tell me why you wish to see me. Is it important?’

  ‘Yes, at least I think so.’

  ‘Have you concluded your business with your father’s solicitor?’

  She nodded.

  He motioned her to a seat. ‘Then you’d better sit down.’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I would rather stand, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets, he rested his hip against the desk and tilted his head to one side, looking at her intently. He was intrigued. ‘Don’t you think you should get to the point?’

  Jane swallowed nervously, meeting his gaze beneath his close scrutiny. She knew her next words could be the turning point in her life—that it could be for the better or she was about to make a complete fool of herself.

  ‘First of all I would like to tell you that throughout his life my father accumulated a great deal of money. He—he dealt with it in a rather haphazard way. He was never interested in money, you see—not really—but he did consider my future very carefully. Now his lawyer has finalised his affairs, it—it would appear he did rather well for himself—he even bought into some profitable diamond mines in Africa, among other things. All are paying healthy dividends. He has left me very well provided for.’ Realising she was letting her tongue run away with her, she fell silent.

  ‘I see. I am happy for you, but what is it you are trying to say, Miss Mortimer?’

  Jane took her time, wanting to create the impression of unhurried calm, but her pulse was racing. ‘I have to decide what to do next—with my money, that is.’

  ‘You don’t have to do anything with it. I am sure your lawyer and bank manager will advise you regarding investments—and I imagine your aunt would welcome a donation for her charities.’

  ‘I have already taken care of that.’

  ‘So what is it you want from me?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s—it’s just that I know how difficult things are for you at present—financially, that is. I—I have money, and I thought...’

  As he realised exactly what she did think, Christopher’s attitude changed immediately. Humiliated and shamed beyond bearing, he was silent, looking at her hard, incredulously, as though she had suddenly changed before his eyes. His eyes glittered with a fire that burned her raw and his voice was deadly calm when he spoke.

  ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’

  Bemused, she shook her head. ‘A joke? No, of course it isn’t.’

  ‘Good. It would have been in excruciatingly bad taste. You are not wanting in audacity, I’ll grant you that.’

  Jane felt a prickling of fear that escalated to panic the moment she looked into his eyes. In contrast to the deadly quiet of his voice, his face was a mask of savage fury. She watched him struggle to contain it.

  ‘I—I don’t understand...’

  ‘Then listen carefully. I don’t want your money, Miss Mortimer,’ he said in a terrible voice, standing up straight. ‘I will not be obligated to you. I think what you are about to suggest comes under the heading of charity. Is that what I am to you—a charity case, an object of pity? If you think that, then you have a low opinion of me. The day I need pity from a woman is the day I walk myself off a cliff.’

  ‘I do not pity you.’ Jane’s eyes were huge with genuine horror that he should think that. Half-turning from his burning gaze, she put her hand to her head. ‘As a matter of fact, I have a very high opinion of you—and Lady Lansbury. She has been very kind to me. I wanted to help you and your family.’

  ‘What can you possibly do for my family that hasn’t already been done?’

  Jane rounded on him with fire in her eyes and a challenge to the world in the arrogance of her stance. ‘I can save you from ruin. I am offering you a way out of debt. Don’t let your masculine pride stand in your way.’

  His eyes slashed her like razors. ‘The state of my finances is not your business, Miss Mortimer. My father might have exhibited a proclivity towards all manner of expensive vices—gambling was his addiction—he lost astronomical sums and once offered Chalfont in payment of one particular enormous debt. At the time I was a wealthy man in my own right. I stepped in and paid it. Unfortunately it almost ruined me. Everything was mortgaged up to the hilt. The banks and creditors became like scavengers, calling in loans and taking everything that was not entailed. When they scent a failure, they are quick to close in to ensure that they get their share of what is left. I dug myself out of a hole and I am still digging, but I am climbing to the top of that hole without help from you or anyone else.’

  Panic jolted through Jane’s entire nervous system—her heart began to race wildly. He spat the words at her. At this cruel attack she fell back and put her hands over her face as if he had hit her. For one dreadful moment she had seen the rage in his eyes, in his stance, in his hands clenched by his sides. In fact, the very air between them sizzled with it and she became quiet inside her where the memory of their kiss was hidden, the remembrance of it soothing the anger, understanding at last why he was reacting like this to her offer.

  She had humiliated him and because of it he could quite simply not stand the sight of her in this room where he was forced to look at her, knowing she was the cause of that humiliation, hurt pride and shame.

  Her courage and her anger seemed to have abandoned her all of a sudden. The whole situation had turned into a grotesque and humiliating farce.

  ‘I see, but—’

  ‘But nothing. I think you forget yourself and your station. You may find yourself elevated to a position to be envied, but your sole concern in my house is for the care of my sister. However, since you have come here to make me an offer of your money, what exactly would our arrangement be? You want to give me some of your money. Why would you do that? For what reason? Explain yourself, Miss Mortimer.’

  ‘Oh, I— Indeed, I have given no thought to—’

  ‘Come now,’ he persisted, beginning to pace up and down the room impatiently. ‘You are not usually lost for words. Nor are you so stupid as not to have given the matter careful thought before making me the offer. A loan comes with interest.’

  Suddenly it dawned on him what it was she might want. Had this foolish young woman read more into their amorous embrace on the train than he realised at the time? Was it possible that she had aspirations to be his wife and she was making the offer of her money to tempt him? He was used to being pursued by rich heiresses in pursuit of a title. It looked as if Jane Mortimer was no different after all.

  He stopped pacing and stared at her. For a moment his expression was blank, then the uncompromising line of his jaw hardened. His eyes, which had been cold and harsh, became colder still, and his stern mouth tightened. ‘Just what interest would you require in return for your money? Would it be of the monetary kind or something else?’

  ‘Something else?’ she repeated. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Don’t play the innocent. It won’t wo
rk.’ He moved closer, halting in front of her, his eyes glacial and pinning hers. ‘One minute you’re an independent young woman taking care of my sister, and today you’re oozing good will and awash with excitement over the prospect of sharing your newfound wealth with me. I think you read more into our embrace than I realised.’

  A dozen rejoinders sprang to Jane’s mind, only to lodge in her throat behind a lump of confusion that swelled unbearably as she regarded him. ‘I did? I just don’t know where to begin.’

  His face hardened into an expressionless mask, but his eyes were probing hers like twin daggers that impaled her, looking for answers. ‘Let’s stick to the salient points. What are you really doing here? What do you want from me?’

  She glanced at him, her eyes dark with pain and disillusionment. ‘I haven’t thought... That’s a little awkward to explain,’ Jane said. She was so off balance from his anger that her mind went blank and she uttered disjointedly, ‘I merely thought that since you are having to sell your London house—and you can no longer rely on Miss Spelling—’

  ‘What?’ he ground out. ‘That you would put yourself forward in her stead?’

  Jane’s head whirled with the most dreadful confusion. She had done nothing to invite this. ‘Put myself forward? No—I...’

  ‘Please tell me you didn’t expect me to offer to marry you because of what happened between us. Tell me that you aren’t that naive or that stupid. Had I wanted to marry for money I would have married Lydia. But when it boiled down to it—although I was a little late in realising it—as lovely and fortuitous as it was, her money alone was not enough. May I ask why the hell you would think I have any desire to marry you? Why should I take yours?’

  Flinching from the sting of his tone, Jane wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. In that warm, elegantly furnished room all reality seemed to have been suspended, leaving her to hang in the numbing vacuum of her own uncertainty.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she said, choosing her words with great care in the hope of preserving what little was left of her pride, ‘you have got it wrong. You have misunderstood me completely, and if you’d waited a little longer instead of running off in a temper, you’d have heard me say how...’